Gilbert of Blythe Farm
by ArtNScience
Summary: The other side of Anne of Green Gables, Gilbert's side. Following the same chronology as AOGG, but told from the perspective of Gilbert and his family. Some characters you know and love, plus a few others I took the liberty to expand considerably. The characters belong to L.M. Montgomery, and I thank her family for allowing my imagination to soar in Avonlea.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Mrs. Rachel Lynde Receives a Visitor

To the uninitiated traveler, the little grey house sitting at the crossroads of Avonlea was a tidy well kept affair, a picturesque representative of all that a staid farmhouse should be. What that traveler did not know was that this was the home of Mrs. Rachel Lynde, the self-appointed overseer of all business related to her village and its inhabitants. She had settled her extensive personage in her favorite chair. It was her favorite primarily because it caught a good afternoon sunshine, and by looking out her kitchen window, over the garden of Lynde Hollow, she could see who came and went on the red road. Her view was of a splendid late summer afternoon. A warm wind rustled gently in the orchard trees, for no wind would dare whistle wildly in the prim order of Mrs. Rachel's tidy flower beds. The sound mixed with the hollow roar of the ocean in the distance and the hum of insects in the fields, creating a symphony that spoke of a fading summer resigned to the coming winter. The good lady industriously knit away on her cotton warp quilt, still, if one were to look closely, one could see Mrs. Rachel's mind was not entirely engrossed her stitch count nor was her sharp eye watching closely the traffic passing on the little country road. There was a slight smile on her lips and a gleam of humor in her eye. She was, in fact, recalling the afternoon's visit with Marilla Cuthbert.

The previous June, all of Avonlea, and Mrs. Rachel not the least, was shocked by the most scandalous story that had rocked the little farming community since Millie Jenks had become engaged to a Yankee. Marilla and Mathew Cuthbert had sent to an orphan asylum, but through some strange mistake, or stroke of providence, had been sent a girl instead of the boy they had requested. No ordinary girl either. No, in all her years, Mrs. Rachel Lynde had never seen the like of this thin slip of a girl with her strange speeches and bewitching eyes. Marilla had certainly taken on a handful with that one. The child was almost unearthly and had the most amazing knack for getting into scrapes. Well Rachel remembered her first introduction to Anne Shirley, the anger and indigence that flared up in that small face upon being called homely and red-headed, the literal truth it will be told. Still, no Avonlea child would have dared say such things to Mrs. Rachel Lynde. A small part of Rachel's conscience told her she should not have twitted the girl about her looks, but who would have expected such a temper. It came with the red hair she supposed.

If she had been shocked by their first meeting, their second meeting had won her over completely. The child was clearly sincere in her apology, but still there was something as she looked up out of those clear grey green eyes that Mrs. Rachel Lynde had never seen in a girl of eleven. She certainly wasn't like the Avonlea girls. Rachel had tried to get more of Anne's backstory from Marilla, but Marilla never was one to say much but the plain facts. Anne was born in Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia. Upon the death of both her parents of a fever, she had lived with two ladies before being sent to the orphan asylum in Hopeton. There Mrs. Spencer had taken charge of her and delivered her to the care of the Cuthberts. There must be more to the story, and Mrs. Rachel had never been fully satisfied with this version of events. What history could have formed such a child as could charm Mathew Cuthbert, well known for his shyness around all females save Marilla, and induce prim Marilla Cuthbert to keep her? No there was certainly more to the story. Today, Rachel had learned that Anne was to attend school in September. How would that child get on with the other children of Avonlea, odd thing that she was? To be sure, she had become fast friends with Diana Barry. Rachel chuckled to herself and shook her head. There was something winsome in Anne that would draw people to her, no doubt. Still, she was not the same as the other small fry born and bred on P.E.I. It was Rachel that had brought up Anne's schooling.

"Well Marilla, I suppose Anne is looking forward to the start of school," Rachel had begun. "She is getting on real well with the other little girls. I noticed so at the Sunday school picnic."

"Yes, she gets on quite well with the other girls," replied Marilla in her frank manner. "I am more concerned with her habit of slipping off into daydreams when she should be attending to her duties."

Rachel could not help but shake her head and think to herself, "Marilla you have really taken it on yourself. What does an old maid know of raising normal children, much less such a child as that?" Instead she said aloud, "She won't have much time to daydream. Mr. Phillips is a good enough teacher, and no nonsense about him. He doesn't spare the rod as some do, but he spends a bit too much time with the older scholars from what I understand. He is not the kind of teacher I would have chosen had I been on the school board." Here Mrs. Rachel huffed, and shook her head, as if in wonder that she had not been asked her opinion in his selection.

Marilla had soon after concluded her visit and made her way back home, but, though not burdened with much imagination herself, Mrs. Rachel suspected Anne's ideas and mannerisms would surely make for a more interesting school year than normal in Avonlea.

Abstracted as she was, Mrs. Rachel did not miss a person in the figure of Mrs. George Fletcher striding down the road, then turning in at the Lynde's gate. Meredith Fletcher was as round as Mrs. Rachel herself, but with something more soft and jolly that bespoke of a comfortable mind and a good sense of humor. Rachel invited her in at the light tap on her kitchen door.

"Good evening Meredith, do come sit down," said Mrs. Rachel, always happy to have a guest and hear the latest news. "How are all of your folks?"

"Oh, we are well, quite well you know, all of us," replied the smiling Mrs. Meredith. "My brother John is a bit run down, never been quite back up to his old self since his sickness some years back, but we are still all quite well you know." John Blythe, Mrs. Meredith's brother and next door neighbor, had become ill some four years back. He had moved his whole family to Alberta for three years as he recuperated his health. Just last fall the family had returned to the old Blythe homestead, which neighbors Mr. George Fletcher's farm on the west.

"Well we shall include John in the prayers at the Ladies Aid on Tuesday," Mrs. Rachel replied piously with a nod of her head. She did love to include people in the prayers. To her credit, she sincerely cared for the well being of her neighbors, but it must be admitted she enjoyed being the person who always _knew_ when someone needed praying for.

"Thank you, Rachel. That is kind of you. I'm sure he will be fine. He has worked too hard without Gilbert here this summer to help him. Quite too hard, you know. Still, Gilbert is returning from visiting his cousins in a few weeks, it will all work out fine," smiled Mrs. Meredith.

Mrs. Rachel recalled John and Maria Blythe's son, Gilbert, as being a roguish boy but quite responsible. George Fletcher's hired boy had told Thomas Lynde's hired boy, who told Thomas, who told Rachel, that Gilbert did quite as much work on the farm as his father, perhaps more, often giving up the little pleasures young boys enjoyed to keep the burden of the work from his father. Rachel believed in youth doing their work, still a small part of her wondered if it was right for a boy so young to take on such responsibility. Well, that responsibility had not prevented Gilbert from developing quite the reputation as a prankster and a general favorite among the young female element of Avonlea, despite the fact that he was well known for teasing the girls. If not for the vivacious antics of one Anne Shirley, the summer would have been fairly dull without the mischief of Gilbert Blythe.

Mrs. Meredith turned the conversation to the reason of her visit, borrowing a pattern for an apple leaf quilt she intended to start, and soon Meredith went along her way. Mrs. Rachel got up to go about getting tea ready for Thomas, giving only one uneasy passing thought to this bit of local news. How would Anne Shirley's temper respond to the teasing of Gilbert Blythe?

_Note: Thank you insubordinationfreak for catching a rather embarrassing spelling error, now corrected._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Homecoming

The road to the Bright River train station is lovely in any season. One September evening, the air was warm and mellow. Afternoon sunshine filtered through the green leaves of the trees and a small, tired breeze rustled the grass in the ditches along the road and through the golden rod that bordered the shorn fields. The summer had brought a good harvest, stored away against the harsher winter months, and the orchards were heavy with fruit ready for picking. A buggy ambled along the dusty road, in no great hurry, as the driver took in the fields and orchards, satisfied with observing the bounty of his labors and the labors of his fellow men in the little community. He was a tall man with dark, curly hair, grey around the temples, and dark brown eyes. A little on the thin side, with something remaining in the sharp lines of his face and hallows under his eyes that spoke of a long illness in the not too distant past. It was said that his illness had robbed him of his looks and his youth, yet, the brown tone of this skin and twinkle in his eyes, as well as the lean muscle apparent in his arms and shoulders under his second best suit of clothes spoke of a victory against disease and an active man that took pleasure in his chosen livelihood.

John Blythe was no poet or painter, but his farmer's heart overflowed with pleasure he could not name and satisfaction too great for expression as he gazed out over the fields and pastures of his native soil. This was not the only reason for the smile that played about the corners of his tired mouth. As he neared the train station, his calloused hands gripped the reins and he clicked his tongue, urging the horse into a faster pace. He could see the smoke of the approaching train and hear the whistle announcing its arrival. He wanted to be on the platform before the passengers disembarked. He drew up the buggy in the Bright River hotel yard and tied the horse before walking purposefully toward the small station. A pile of shingles lay at the edge of the long platform and here he leaned tiredly as he waited for the train, now making its way to a stop, to empty the few passengers who would not be going on to White Sands.

The first person to step off of the train was a lad of thirteen, who looked around with bright hazel eyes, quickly spotting his object.

"Father!" exclaimed the boy with a flashing smile. John Blythe rose to greet his son. He was somewhat surprised when the lad dashed up to him and gave him a hug, without any of the reserve boys show at that age in such signs of affection for their parents. Surprised also to find the lad came quite up to his chin. It seemed Gilbert had shot up several inches over the summer.

"Well lad, it seems you have grown some," said Mr. Blythe, his face already having lost some of its tired lines in the joy of seeing his son.

"I'm taller than cousin Jack now," Gilbert said proudly. He wanted to be as tall as his father and really felt he had, at last, made some headway.

"He should be taller, the way he eats. I do like to see a young man with a healthy appetite," came a feminine voice. Mrs. Robert Fletcher and her two daughters had been kind enough to escort Gilbert from New Brunswick, where his cousins lived, to Bright River station.

"Thank you for delivering him Mrs. Fletcher," replied John with feeling. His presence in the house had been missed this summer by both of his parents.

"You are quite welcome," replied Mrs. Fletcher. "Well there is the man waving us back on board. We must be off. Do give my regards to Maria, and to Meredith and George."

"Of course, and the same to your folks," replied John with good grace. It was lucky Mrs. Fletcher was headed home to White Sands and could drop Gilbert off, and it was kind of her to agree to do so since she really wasn't blood relation to the Blythes. Her husband was brother to George Fletcher, the east side neighbor of the Blythe farm, and married to John's sister, Meredith. Still, they were family, even if only by marriage, and Mrs. Fletcher had performed the office gladly.

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Fletcher," put in Gilbert. "Goodbye Estel, goodbye Roberta," he called to the Fletcher girls, who poked their heads around their mother's skirts, faces bearing signs of evident disappointment that their traveling companion would go no further with them.

"Oh you are quite welcome dear. It was a pleasure to travel with such a well behaved young man," responded the kindly Mrs. Fletcher. The boy had clearly won her over as well as her daughters. They all waved cheerily to each other as the train huffed along its way once more, sending its own little clouds of smoke up, joining other clouds in the blue September sky.

Gilbert picked up his leather bag and insisted on carrying one end of the small trunk as they made their way toward the buggy. Gilbert looked about with evident pleasure and the air of someone glad to be home. As the buggy ambled down the red roads, Gilbert chatted animatedly about his summer with his cousins, telling funny anecdotes of his time away. His added height made him seem more a young man than the boy who had left from the same station in June, but there was still a twinkle in his eye and a crook in his smile that spoke of boyish fun and mischief. Gilbert took strongly after his father in build and coloring. He was tall and lean, with a tan complexion and dark, curly hair. Though his face still had much of the roundness of boyhood, it had already begun to show promise of the handsome lines for which John Blythe was known in his youth. It was in the features that Maria Blythe had most strongly stamped her son. He had her hazel eyes, with long black lashes; her full, expressive mouth always ready to laugh, and her jolly personality and sense of humor. As the two drove home, there was a slight frown in Gilbert's eyes and a pucker in his forehead that said he was not so well satisfied with how his father looked as his father was with Gilbert's looks.

By the time they had caught up on all the sundry comments and facts since their last exchange of letters, primarily dealing with the quality of the harvest and how much hay might be got in by winter, they had passed down the avenue, through Newbridge, and topped the hill overlooking Barry's Pond. Gilbert glanced around noting the blinking lights of Orchard Slope. Diana Barry had left around the same time as him to visit cousins in Carmody, but he believed she was supposed to have come back some weeks ago. Gilbert could see the lights of home glimmering across the pond, and a great warm wave of gladness made him smile at the thought.

"It is good to be home," he said aloud to his father.

John smiled, "I hope you are hungry. You mother has been in a right state all day, baking and stewing in preparation for your homecoming."

"What's for dessert," inquired Gilbert, who knew full well there would be some delightful confection perched in his mother's pantry awaiting him.

"Do you really think I have ventured anywhere near enough to ask her? I snuck in like a thief for my dinner this afternoon, terrified she might put me to work," returned his father in mock horror.

Their merry laughter mixed with the echoed clip clop of the horse's hooves as they crossed the bridge. Lights could be seen from the other homesteads around them. Way back in the trees, just barely visible, he could see the lights of Green Gables where the Cuthberts lived, and further ahead he could see the lights of Lynde Hollow. Gilbert barely resisted the impulse to wave as they passed near Mrs. Rachel Lynde's house, as he was sure that keen eyed watcher was waiting for his return and would report it far and wide on the morrow.

Mr. Blythe turned the buggy down the short drive to the old Blythe homestead and had barely come to a halt before the kitchen door was open and Maria Blythe was smiling at her son, the warm light of the kitchen streaming out around her, lighting the twilight. Gilbert got down and started to gather his things, but his father stopped him with a light touch on his arm.

"Go on in son. I'm sure your mother is anxious to see you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Hearth and Home

Mrs. Maria Blythe was a woman of soft curves and smiles, jolly by nature with a sweetness of disposition that made her a general favorite among the middle aged women of Avonlea. She had hair that was the amber blonde of honey, hazel eyes that crinkled up at the corners when she laughed, and a rosy complexion. There was about her a pervasive sense of happiness that seemed to make her face younger than it really was. She sat working on a bit of lace of a new pattern, lately borrowed from Mrs. Gillis, by the last lingering light of the evening in her cozy kitchen. The kitchen was clean and tidy, though not painfully so, with flowers in the windows and warm tones. The table was already laid for supper. She could not help laying out a table of such a state usually only seen with the minister visited. She had used her best spotless white table cloth, edged in lace, and her delicate wedding china with the ivy edging and yellow flowers. The table practically groaned under all of the dishes she had made, tongue and chicken, peas and beans, two kinds of preserves and a marvelous chocolate layer cake waiting in the pantry. Mrs. Blythe was a noted cook, and no picnic or bazaar was complete unless she had contributed some toothsome creation. This, however, was not her great point of pride, or her tidy home, or the fine lace in her hands. Her greatest pride was summed up in nothing more or less than her son. Gilbert had been the third child for Maria and John. Two tiny graves marked a brother, born dead, and a sister that had lived only two months before succumbing to a fever. Gilbert was born healthy and dimpled, a truly pretty baby. Her pretty baby had grown into a handsome boy, petted and adored by all. As no other children had followed him, he had all of the love and attention that the kind little mother had dreamed of bestowing on a house full.

That motherly love added to the anticipation she felt as she listened for the sounds of her husband returning with her son. The family had been apart very little. Gilbert had been too small to visit by himself before John's illness. While illness and the shadow of death can drive some families apart, it only brought the Blythes closer together. During those three years, Maria and Gilbert united in the care of John. Watching and worrying, and at last growing hopeful as he seemed to gain in strength and vigor. Maria had felt uneasy in Gilbert taking on responsibilities of a man at so young an age and she felt guilty that he had fallen so far behind in school. There was nothing else to do for it though. The doctor they had seen frequently while living in Alberta had noted Gilbert's intelligence and loaned him books. Dr. Nelson had often stayed for hours after he had seen John, discussing those books with Gilbert. As a result, he was not as very far behind as he might have been on returning to Avonlea. He had made up some lost time in school last year, and Mrs. Blythe was so convinced of her son's brilliance, she was sure he would not be behind the other small fry for long.

On hearing the clip of hooves in the hard packed earth of the drive, Maria quickly dropped her lace into her work basket, put it away, and smoothing her skirt and hair from long habit as she lit the lamps. Too impatient to wait, she opened the kitchen door to greet her family, back together at last.

Gilbert ran toward his mother as enthusiastically as he had run toward his father, with a bright grin on his face. When she wrapped him in a tight hug, she noticed with a start that he was now as tall as she was. Tears dimmed her eyes a bit as she pulled away and held is face in her hands.

"Welcome home son. How I have missed you," she said with feeling. None but those who have gained knowledge of the secrets of motherhood could understand that behind those words lay an ocean of love, gladness and pride, touched with a bit of sadness at how quickly her child was becoming a man. With manhood came independence, and someday her son would leave her, get married and have a family of his own. She hoped for this because her first motive was his happiness. Still, she couldn't help being jealous of this shadowy woman in the distant future. She was intensely jealous of her son's love. Mrs. Blythe shook away such premonitions and focused on the present. Tonight her son had come home, and for now his mother was the most important woman in his life.

"I am glad to be home Mother. I missed you too, and I missed your cooking," Gilbert teased as he peered around his mother at the laden table.

"Well, we can't have that," laughed Maria, a twinkle of good humor replacing the shine of tears in her eyes. "Here now, you just go wash up while I fill the glasses."

Gilbert's eyes lit up, "Lemonade?"

"Yes, I made it just for the occasion. I know you enjoy it."

Gilbert laughed merrily. Yes, he did. He thought it tasted like liquid summer. This summer must have been a boring affair without him, and he said as much to his mother.

Maria looked at him with expression of mixed exasperation and humor, well aware of her son's methods of preventing boredom. "Well your friends have missed you. Fred and Jimmy stopped by on their way home from school yesterday asking when you would be back. However, I wouldn't say we have been bored here in Avonlea by any stretch."

By the time Gilbert was washed up and was seated at the table, John had returned and placed Gilbert's trunk and leather bag in his room. John smiled as he watched Maria fuss about the table and, when they were all seated, he bowed his head to offer thanks for the meal. John's deep voice filled the little kitchen, and ended, as always, with heartfelt thanks for the health of his family. Gilbert earnestly added his own silent thank to God for his father's health and slid his eyes sideways to look at him in the bright kitchen lamp light. Yes, Father looked tired and more run down than he had in June. Gilbert cut his eyes to his mother as he unfolded his napkin. Mother's own eyes mirrored his worried expression. She tightened her mouth, and Gilbert knew she to was worried.

For several minutes no one spoke beyond the "pleases" and "thankyous" of a family supper. It was a comfortable silence as everyone quickly tucked away generous portions of their meal. As Gilbert helped himself to a second helping of preserves and another biscuit, he returned to Mother's previous comment. "What excitement has happened around pokey old Avonlea while I was away?"

His father chuckled appreciatively but left Mrs. Blythe answer.

"Well, Mr. Josiah Abner's pig got into the church yard and rooted up all of the petunias not long after you left. The school got a new flag." Gilbert looked rather disappointed. This sounded like regular Avonlea to him. Maria's expression looked a little too innocent though, as if she might be saving the best for last.

"Oh, and it seems you will have a new classmate. Mathew and Marilla Cuthbert have adopted an orphan girl from Nova Scotia, about your age or a little younger." Here Gilbert perked up with interest. Girls were the most fun to tease and a new girl provided the opportunity for a victim that didn't know any of his tricks!

Eying Gilbert's mischievous smile, John warned, "She appears to have quite a temper. It seems just a week after her arrival she gave Mrs. Lyde a tongue lashing. Mrs. Lynde said she had never been so insulted."

At this news Gilbert's smile turned positively gleeful. Someone had lit into Mrs. Rachel! Oh he wished he could have been there to see the look on her face! Gilbert was not a mean spirited boy, but he really felt there was a limit to what a fellow could take in terms of "respecting his elders". Mrs. Rachel had pushed that limit more than once with her sighs and head shaking while looking at his father, or her disapproving glances at his mother's bright hats. He was sure she was a kindly woman, and did much for the community. Still, her advice was best kept in small doses.

"I'm sure it has worked out," said Maria. "I heard Mrs. Lynde telling Miss Cuthbert at Ladies Aid this week how improved Anne seemed to be."

"Anne?" asked Gilbert.

"Yes, Anne Shirley is her name," replied his mother. "I have only seen her at church, but she seems a very odd little thing, all elbows and eyes. Mrs. Barry says Diana comes home talking about the strangest things after playing with her. I hope you will be nice to her at school dear. I'm afraid she might feel lonely being the newest pupil," she concluded kindly.

John chuckled, "Odd she may be, but she certainly can talk. I ran into her with Mathew at William Blair's store and she was chatting up a storm. He was looking at her as if the world revolved around her. Any sprite of a girl who can bring Mathew Cuthbert out of his shell has enough charm for all of Avonlea."

"Time will tell," said Maria, putting the whole conversation out of her mind as she began clearing plates to make room for dessert. After she had stepped into the pantry, Gilbert inquired of his father "Have you already harvested the back field? Today is only Thursday, so I could help you tomorrow and start fresh at school on Monday."

John gave his son a small smile, "No I had planned to start the back field tomorrow and finish it early next week. You should go to school son. I wouldn't want you to miss out on seeing your friends."

"I'm not so eager to sit all day in a classroom just yet," shrugged Gilbert. "Please Father? It will be good to be outside working with you again." It wasn't entirely true that he wasn't excited to get back to school, but Monday would be soon enough to see his friends.

"Well, I suppose it is fine with me," acquiesced John wearily. He was pleased his son wanted to help, and knew the job would be done faster as a consequence.

"What is fine with you?" asked Maria as she came back with a layered chocolate cake and a knife to cut it with. That cake was from a recipe handed down for generations in Maria's family, a closely guarded secret that many housewives in Avonlea had unsuccessfully tried to replicate in the privacy of their own kitchens. It also happened to be Gilbert's favorite.

"Gilbert asked me if he could help with the harvest tomorrow all day instead of going to school."

Maria's eyes snapped dangerously, "Gilbert you are already three weeks into term, and you fell so far behind while we were away. You must not neglect your education."

Gilbert stood up and helped his mother with the plates while planting a kiss on her cheek and throwing a free arm around her shoulder. "Please Mother? A growing boy needs good food and fresh air. You provide the best food in the world, and helping Father tomorrow will give me plenty of fresh air." He gave her the charming grin that came so naturally as he added, "I would much rather spend my first day home with my family." She smiled, won over completely.

John quickly took a gulp from his hot cup of coffee to hide his smile rather than tempt Maria's temper. The boy certainly knew how to handle his mother.


	4. Chapter 4

_This chapter contains dialogue from AOGG chapter 15 in an attempt to fuse Anne's story with Gilbert's. _

Chapter 4: A Tempest in a School Teapot

Gilbert leaned against a gate post at the end of the Blythe Farm drive, his books tucked under one arm and his lunch bucket at his feet. Happily munching on an apple he had plucked from the orchard as he headed out. He was sure, if he stood there for a bit, he would run into Fred, Jimmy and Charlie headed to school. Their family farms were all on this side of Barry pond, so the boys often walked back and forth to school together. As predicted, a whistle and a whoop announced their arrival. Gilbert pitched his apple core toward his best friend, Fred Wright, who quickly ducked to avoid it. Charlie Sloane, who was walking just behind Fred wasn't as lucky and the core bounced off of his shoulder and into the tall grass of the lane edge. Charlie brushed off his shoulder with annoyance but couldn't help grin back at Gilbert. Gilbert grabbed his lunch bucket and jogged into the lane, grinning at his friends.

"Blythe!" yelled Jimmy Glover, jumping on Gilbert's back good naturedly, knocking Gilbert's hat askew. Jimmy, a small, sandy haired boy, barely caused Gilbert to stumble before he dropped back to the ground and thumped Gilbert's back. "Awfully good to see you again! Things have been dull without you."

"Good to see you Blythe," said Fred with a wide smile. Fred was a chubby boy with a round face full of good humor who was shy around all but his closest friends, but Gilbert knew Fred often came up with the best pranks of them all.

"Gilbert, how has your summer been," said Charlie seriously holding out a hand to Gilbert. Gilbert shook his hand with a serious look on his face and a glint in his eye at Charlie's pompous behavior.

"My summer was good. My cousins were fun but they aren't much for pranks." Gilbert's eyes sparkled, "So which one of you let Mr. Abner's pig out?" Jimmy started to chuckle and his brown eyes sparkled. Gilbert knew he had found the culprit.

The boys all started down the lane, laughing and telling each other stories from their summer escapades. Jimmy gave a particularly funny reenactment of how he had waved his arms and shooed Mr. Abner's pig toward the church. Their voices carried through the trees in the still, warm morning. The sun shone brightly against the leaves of the trees and sent sparkles off of the ripples in Barry Pond. Gilbert paused just before the bridge to pick up a stone out of the lane and try skipping it on the pond's surface. He got just one skip before the stone sank, but a high voice said, "Oh, good toss Gilbert." He turned around to see Julia Bell and Emma White walking across the bridge.

"Good toss?" Gilbert scoffed as the girls sauntered out of sight. "One skip doesn't count as a good toss. Here Jimmy, you go."

As Jimmy skipped his rock across the pond, Fred chuckled telling Gilbert "Better watch out for Julia. She wrote your name up with hers under Take Notice on the board outside school."

Jimmy stepped aside to give Charlie a turn and added, "She told Ruby Gillis you gave her a chocolate at the end of last term and that you were her beau."

Gilbert looked at his friends in surprise, "I didgive her a piece of chocolate, but I gave everyone a piece out of the bag Father brought back from Newbridge. I would have been awful mean not too. I guess that means I'm Charlie's beau too!" he laughed merrily and gave his friend a little shove as Charlie's prominent blue eyes opened even wider in surprise.

Fred looked up from selecting his stone and laughed, "I hate to break it to you chum, but you've been dished. Charlie is dead gone on Anne Shirley."

"That's the new girl? The one who gave Mrs. Lynde what for?" asked Gilbert shooting a nervous look in the direction of Lynde Hollow as if she could hear what he said.

"She is the smartest girl in school," said Charlie blushing profusely, "and she doesn't laugh at me the way the other girls do."

"That's because she doesn't know you exist!" teased Jimmy.

The boys spent their remaining walk talking cheerfully about their classmates, with the occasional teasing comment about Charlie's upcoming engagement to Anne Shirley. They turned off the main road and up the spruce hill to the little whitewashed school house. After a brief glare at little Jack Gillis for daring to put his milk bottle in Gilbert's customary place in the stream, the boys filed into the school. The single room was furnished with old fashioned wooden desks that opened and shut on a hinge in the front. The tops were smooth with age and long wear; even the various initials and small pictures carved in the lid were worn smooth on the edges. Jimmy and Fred went to sit at a back desk by a window overlooking the fir woods, as both of them were the same age as Gilbert and therefore among the older boys in the class. Boys did not generally attend school as long as the girls since many of them started farming seriously at fifteen. Two rows forward, Charlie went to sit by Moody Spurgeon MacPherson, both boys were only eleven but in the fifth reader while Gilbert was still in the fourth. Gilbert hung back a bit, not wanting to take anyone's seat and also not wanting to sit with the younger boys. Although the children were ordered by their class for the most part, with the older kids in the back and the younger kids in the front, it was considered the height of meanness to take anyone's seat. After being sure most of the scholars were there, he took an open desk on the side of the room overlooking the school yard and the woods, right behind Ruby Gillis and Emma White.

Shortly after, a group of girls flocked in including Diana Barry, Jane Andrews, and a girl Gilbert was sure must be Anne Shirley. No one had mentioned her looks to him specifically, but he saw she was not particularly pretty. She was very thin, and the tight, plain dress she was wearing only made her seem thinner. All elbows and eyes his mother had said. She had a small face with a pointed chin and many freckles sprinkled across her nose. Her most prominent feature on first impression was her hair, which was a vivid shade of red he had never encountered before. She sat down with Diana right across from Gilbert, but he didn't get a close look at her face once Mr. Phillips came in.

Last year Mr. Phillips had closely watched the students as they worked, but apparently his interest in Priscilla Andrews was greater than his interest in catching students at wrong doing. As the morning wore on, Mr. Phillips stayed at the back of the room with Prissy, leaving the other children to their own devices. Gilbert got along well with the other scholars enjoyed a care free morning of reacquainting himself, sharing small gifts and receiving gifts in return. Gilbert had brought a box of small candies home with him from his cousins that included peppermints, lemon drops, candy hearts and licorice, which he shared freely. Moody smuggled him a green apple, and Tommy Sloane let him drive his cricket team. Gilbert stole the occasional sidelong glance at Anne Shirley hoping to catch her eye and pass her a candy too.

He decided to make her look at him by pulling his first prank of the school year. A sudden inspiration came to him as he glanced over his Canadian history at Ruby Gillis's long, blonde braid hanging temptingly just in front of him. He dug in his pocket for pin he had stuck through a twine ball to keep it from unraveling. He had some ideas for the twine, but he wasn't expecting to find the pin so useful. Very slowly and carefully, so she wouldn't notice the movement, he shifted Ruby's braid slightly on the back of her seat and carefully pinned it in place. Successfully completing his stealthy mission, Gilbert's grin widened as he settled back behind his book and waited for the fun to begin. Ruby was almost done with her arithmetic, and he was sure she would be getting up soon. Presently Ruby Gillis started to take a sum up to the master; she fell back into her seat with a little shriek, believing that her hair was pulled out by the roots. Gilbert quickly whisked the pin out of her hair, dropping it in his history book where it would not be noticed_. _Everyone laughed at her and Mr. Phillips glared so sternly that Ruby began to cry. Gilbert felt a little bad he had made her cry, but not much. Ruby was prone to crying at the slightest provocation. Jimmy and Fred would get a good laugh over it at lunchtime. Meanwhile he kept his face straight and pretended to study his history as the commotion died down.

Feeling the sensation that someone was looking at him, Gilbert looked to his right and found he had successfully gotten Anne Shirley's attention. His gaze locked with a pair of grey green eyes that were looking at him with distinct disapproval. The full lipped mouth was drawn down in a frown and a slight pucker in the intelligent forehead told him she had seen it all, and did not find it the least amusing. There was something that bothered him about that somehow, and Gilbert suddenly felt much more guilty for having a laugh at Ruby's expense. So he tried to make Anne smile, by flashing a droll grin and winking at her. It did not make her smile though. Quite the contrary, her frown deepened and she turned away to whisper to Diana. Gilbert had certainly never had _that_ reaction from a girl before. While not precisely vain, Gilbert was rather spoiled. He teased the girls constantly and pulled small pranks on them. They never seemed to mind. In fact, Gilbert was quite sure Ruby Gillis would take it as something of a compliment if she knew Gilbert had been the engineer behind her embarrassment. Most likely, another Take Notice would go up pairing their names together. So what right did Anne Shirley have to disapprove of him?

By the time lunch was over Gilbert had recovered his equilibrium and was able to laugh over the whole incident heartily with his friends. However, he left out the part about Anne Shirley. During the afternoon the students began to largely do as they pleased. Mr. Phillips dedicating his whole attention to Prissy Andrews' algebra and the rest of the scholars were whispering, drawing pictures on their slates, and driving trained crickets up and down the aisle. Gilbert Blythe was trying to make Anne Shirley look at him and failing utterly, because Anne was at that moment totally oblivious, not only of the very existence of Gilbert Blythe, but of every other scholar in Avonlea school and of Avonlea school itself. With her chin propped on her hands and her eyes fixed on the blue glimpse of Barry's Pond—he heard her call it something different as she talked to the other girls over lunch—she was clearly flying on fancies far away.

Gilbert, although not a particularly imaginative boy, was an observant one. The look on her face was soft and a little smile was on her lips. Gilbert really felt he might like to see that smile aimed at him, though he was vaguely unsure why. He suspected he might find a friend in this girl. He had never had a real friend that was a girl. He thought if he could get her to look at him again, perhaps that soft look would stay on her face as they became fast friends. After all, Gilbert was a general favorite among the girls of Avonlea and he never had tried too hard to make a girl like him before. It rarely occurs to boys his age to try such a direct approach as saying "hello". Instead he cut capers to get her attention. He whistled softly to himself, drawing pictures on his slate when he should have been doing arithmetic. He told a funny story, rather more loudly than was prudent, to Charlie and Moody sitting behind him. He stretched and ran his hands through his curly hair, receiving an appreciative glance from Julia Bell and Josie Pye. Eventually, his pride started to prick. Gilbert Blythe wasn't used to putting himself out to make a girl look at him and meeting with failure. She should look at him, that redheaded girl with the little pointed chin and the big eyes that weren't like the eyes of any other girl in Avonlea school.

Glancing at the long red braids that hung down her back, Gilbert decided to go for a different approach to getting her attention. Gilbert had met with blustering indignation from the girls he teased about their looks. Still, his history had shown him that the girls enjoyed being the focus of his attention, and a sly smile was always sure to follow. He got on well with Diana Barry and he had been calling her crow for ages. Julia Bell had written their names up together and he told her he could do his multiplication by her freckles. Gilbert reached across the aisle, picked up the end of Anne's long red braid, held it out at arm's length, and said in a piercing whisper, "Carrots! Carrots!" just as if he were calling her name to get her attention.

Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance! This was not the look he was anticipating! There was no smile, not even the frown of disapproval she had worn earlier in the day. She sprang to her feet, rudely awakened from her bright fancies. Anne was clearly furious and what was worse, she had tears in her eyes!

Angry splotches of red marked her cheeks as she exclaimed passionately, "You mean, hateful boy! How dare you!"

Even if he had been paying attention, Gilbert would not have dodged the slate that whistled toward his head—Thwack! The slate cracked clear across.

Gilbert felt the stars burst in his head and an angry throb start where she had hit him. Still, it was not the pain that froze him in place as the rest of the school gasped in mixed horror and delight. She had called him mean and hateful. He certainly had not intended to be. It was a joke! Only a joke! Something they should have laughed over together as they became good friends. Gilbert felt a wave of hot guilt sweep up from his toes to the crown of his aching head.

Mr. Phillips stalked down the aisle and laid a hand heavily on Anne's shoulder.

"Anne Shirley, what does this mean?" he said angrily.

Anne returned no answer. Gilbert read it in her face as she drew herself up taller, and stuck out that small chin. Somehow he had dealt her pride a serious blow by his simple teasing nickname, and he felt instinctively that she would rather take whatever punishment Mr. Phillips dealt her rather than admit the real reason for her actions. He could not let her take the blame that, he was now sure, belonged to him alone. Gilbert spoke up stoutly.

"It was my fault, Mr. Phillips. I teased her."

Mr. Phillips glanced at Gilbert with some annoyance, but did not give any other recognition that he had heard.

"I am sorry to see a pupil of mine displaying such a temper and such a vindictive spirit," he said in a solemn tone. "Anne, go and stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the afternoon."

Gilbert watched Anne march to the front of the room with a white, set face, looking every bit as he imagined someone walking to stand in front of a firing squad might look. The guilt deepened as Mr. Phillips wrote on the blackboard above her head, "Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Anne Shirley must learn to control her temper," and then read it out loud so that even the primer class, who couldn't read writing, should understand it_. _

Gilbert tried to pay attention to his lessons, but he was entirely too aware of the blazing girl standing at the front of the room. Her head remained held high and she did not cry, but Gilbert wished the ground would swallow him up for causing her so much embarrassment. He watched closely hoping to catch her eye and convey, in some way, how sorry he was. She never once even glanced his way.

When school was dismissed Anne marched out with her red head held high.Gilbert felt he might finally have his chance to gain her forgiveness outside, and he tried to intercept her at the porch door.

"I'm awful sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne," he whispered contritely. "Honest I am. Don't be mad for keeps, now."

Anne swept by disdainfully, without look or sign of hearing. Gilbert was sure she had heard because her eyes seemed to snap more angrily yet and the angry flush rushed back to her cheeks. "Well," thought Gilbert, "of all the temper and pride!" a little put out that she had not even given him the courtesy of listening to his apology. Still, for the first time in his life he regretted greatly a prank.

He plodded back into the school room with his hands in his pockets to retrieve his things, and then walked home with his friends. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, and Gilbert suspected he had gone on in hopes of comforting Anne Shirley. "Good luck to him," thought Gilbert dryly.

Fred and Jimmy chuckled over the incident and had several good jabs at Gilbert's expense on the way home. Gilbert tried to lighten the mood by playing off what had happened as a funny joke. The boys all agreed that she had really overreacted to a little teasing. It didn't mean anything, after all. By the time he was home, Gilbert had resumed his usual cheerful demeanor and his parents didn't suspect anything untoward had happened at school that day. He knew word would eventually come to them about taking a slate to the head, but, as it did not come up that evening, he didn't bother bringing up the subject himself. He sincerely hoped the whole incident would blow over soon without anything else happening. As Gilbert lay in bed that night he decided, in sudden wisdom, his best course of action would be to just stay away from Anne Shirley and let her get over her temper.


	5. Chapter 5

_This chapter contains dialogue from AOGG chapter 15 in an attempt to fuse Anne's story with Gilbert's. _

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Chapter 5: Tempest in a School Teapot… Again

Daylight was just starting to creep into a small, south facing window of Blythe Farm, reflecting off of the collection of shells and rocks that lined the sill. Just below the window was an old leather-bound trunk, its top polished from many years of being used as a seat at the window, and a book lay on top, a feather for a page marker. To the left of the window was a serviceable dark wood washstand, with a blue basin and pitcher on top. A small mirror hung over the washstand on walls papered in a blue and grey stripe. Next to the washstand was a small desk, a straight backed chair pushed neatly up to it. On top of the desk stood a fair collection of books, along with the assorted bits of twine and rubbish boys tend to accumulate in their pockets. Opposite the window were the door and a small closet. A fishing pole was propped behind the door. To the right of the window was a metal bedstead, containing a rather messy lump covered by a tobacco stripe quilt. Just poking out the top of the quilt, the sun hit dark, glossy curls.

Gilbert woke that morning to the sound of birds and his mother making breakfast. He stretched and ran his hand through his hair, winching slightly as he found the knot from Anne Shirley's slate. He sighed as he recalled the incident, but he was resolved to stay out of her temper's way today. After all, if she could forgive Mrs. Rachel Lynde for calling her red-headed and homely, surely she could forgive him for simply calling her carrots. He briefly considered rolling back over to sleep, but then he heard the kitchen door bang and knew his father was already up to do chores. Gilbert oozed out of bed, flipped back the bed clothes to air and slouched over to the window rubbing his eyes. His head ached and he had not slept very well. When he opened it, a fresh, sweet breeze that smelled of dew and hayfields swept into the room, and after a few deep breaths he thought he was probably awake enough to get his clothes on without putting them on backwards.

Gilbert helped his father with the morning chores, and then went back to the house to wash and retrieve his school books before breakfast. He found his mother had already put a fresh pitcher of water and a clean towel next to his basin. He washed his face and hands, and even made an attempt to tame is curls, quickly giving that up as a bad job. He, rather sloppily, made his bed and quickly rolled his nightshirt up in a ball on top of the trunk. When Maria went up to his room later that morning, she would frown at the state of it, but to his eyes the room looked fine. By the time he had put on a clean shirt and returned downstairs, his father and mother were sitting down to breakfast.

After grace, his father opened the conversation with the very question Gilbert had been hoping to avoid. "So Gilbert, how was your first day back?"

"The usual reading, writing and arithmetic," Gilbert dodged. He would never lie outright.

"What about that new girl, Anne," his mother asked. "Were you nice to her as I asked you to be?"

"Um," Gilbert blushed slightly and sighed. "Well, I made her mad actually."

Both of his parents gave him their full attention. Gilbert sighed again, resigned to the worst. After all, they would probably hear about it anyway and perhaps it was best if they heard it from him. Looking down at his plate, he launched into his tale, making pains to emphasize his own fault in the matter when his mother gasped over the slate incident, but he also couldn't help pointing out that Anne Shirley had overreacted.

"It was wrong of the girl to hit you, but really Gilbert you shouldn't have teased her when you were already warned how temperamental she is about her hair," John said in a sorrowful tone. Just like at school the previous day, Gilbert felt the guilt sweep his body and the knot on his head took a particularly strong throb as if to punish him.

"I really didn't think about it, honest Father. I'm awfully sorry I said it. I knew she had flown at old Mrs. Lynde, but, well, that is Mrs. Lynde," Gilbert began vehemently, but he couldn't go further. He had looked up for the first time since beginning his story. The disapproval on his mother's face was nothing, _nothing_, to the disappointment on his father's face.

"Gilbert," admonished his mother, "You will speak respectfully of your elders and I want you to apologize to Anne Shirley today at school. It is the right thing to do, you know it is."

"I tried!" protested Gilbert, beginning to feel a bit whiny, "She wouldn't listen to me."

"If she chooses not to forgive you, then you will have to live with that, but we cannot let quarrels darken our friendships. Over time, the damage becomes irreparable," John finished.

Maria sighed, "Well, if she chooses not to forgive you, then it will be too bad for her. Your father is right though, you created the problem, and you will need to be the one who makes amends. Here, I've already packed your lunch so you had better get to school." Maria thought she might weed her flower beds that morning to work out some of her own temper; otherwise _she_ might crack a slate on someone's head. Later that morning John reviewed the tale while mending a harness in the barn, he couldn't help laughing until the tears came to his eyes. Maria, vigorously pulling up weeds, heard him and soon was laughing too.

Gilbert picked up his books and his pail, and then made a quick escape out the kitchen door before either of his parents realized they hadn't actually punished him.

"Perhaps they thought a slate to the head was punishment enough," he reasoned to himself as he walked down the drive.

His friends were waiting at the gate, though Charlie was throwing glares his way. Gilbert gave them a halfhearted wave then quickly took the lead toward the school. Gilbert was a little angry at his parents, but deep down he knew he had deserved the upbraiding. This put him in an even fouler temper.

"Why so glum today Gil?" asked Fred after several minutes silence.

"I told my parents about yesterday and they told me I have to apologize to Anne," said Gilbert sullenly. He was reasonably sure she would give him the same treatment as the previous day; he had small hope she would be over her temper.

"You already said sorry!" said Jimmy, indignant on his friend's behalf.

"You should be sorry," Charlie said. "It was terrible mean teasing her about her hair."

"Oh, come on Charlie," said Jimmy. "It was no worse than things we say to the other girls."

"Actually, I think it was meaner, to her mind at least," admitted Gilbert. "She's awfully mad at me now."

Jimmy chuckled as he saw an opportunity to tease his friend, and hopefully cheer him up. "When did you get all sensitive Gil? Should we pick out a sunbonnet and a nice flowery apron for you? Planning on doing some quilt squares when you get home tonight?"

Gilbert did gain a little twinkle in his eye, and he promptly dropped his books and pail, diving sideways at Jimmy to knock him over.

"Hey!" yelled Jimmy as the boys wrestled, cheerfully getting dirty and rumpled in their attempts to knock each other over. Eventually Gilbert's size trumped Jimmy's agility, and Jimmy landed on his backside in the lane edge.

Gilbert picked his hat up where it had fallen off, dusting off his pants and re-tucking his shirt as he walked over to his books and pail. "Guess I don't hit like a girl, so you can keep the apron and hat for yourself."

Fred chuckled at his two friends and even Charlie loosened up. Gilbert walked back over to where Jimmy still sat, and offered a hand to pull him up. Instead of taking Gilbert's hand though, Jimmy thrust some hastily plucked goldenrod into it.

"Flowers for my lady?" Jimmy teased.

Gilbert laughed and pushed Jimmy's head down before taking off down the road, leaving Fred to pull Jimmy to his feet. The boys turned the conversation to other things as they walked to school, namely a plan to go down to Mr. Robert Bell's spruce grove over lunch.

The morning passed quietly enough, with the exception of a warning from Mr. Phillips that he would not tolerate any tardiness when school resumed after lunch. His looks lingered on the boys, who were often several minutes late owing to their habit of "picking a chew" from the said Mr. Bell's spruce grove. When they were dismissed for lunch, the scholars spread out under the trees near the stream to eat and the subject of a tramp over Mr. Bell's pasture field was resumed among the boys. Diana Barry, sitting with the girls under a neighboring tree, spotted Gilbert and nudged Anne with her elbow to point him out. Anne looked at Diana, whispered rather sternly at her friend, and then resolutely changed position so her back was to Gilbert.

"Definitely still mad," mumbled Gilbert to no one in particular.

Sitting by Fred, he noticed he was not the only boy shooting glances at the little group under the tree. Gilbert had his suspicions about Fred's thoughts relating to one dark haired beauty of Orchard Slope, but didn't give them much thought. After all, Gilbert had his own problems, red-haired, fiery-tempered problems. Problems he was supposed to fix somehow.

Jimmy was strongly for the spruce grove outing, arguing that the scholars would have plenty of warning to return since they could see Eben Wright's house, where the school master was staying. Fred also was for going, but just long enough to pick a chew then come back. Finally, it was Fred's plan that the boys all agreed to and they stood up, put away their lunch pails, and prepared to walk over to the pasture fence.

Jimmy stopped by the girls saying, "We're headed to the spruce grove for a chew. You wanna coming too?"

"Oh I don't think we should," whispered Jane. "Mr. Phillips said anyone who was late today would be punished."

Gilbert gave her a rakish grin, "Come on Jane don't be a fraidy cat. We're just walking over there and coming straight back." He glanced around at the group of girls, "Diana will go, won't you?"

Diana looked torn, glancing from Anne's stony face to Gilbert's wide grin. Diana and Gilbert had always been on good terms, but she knew Anne wouldn't be happy about any plan suggested by Gilbert. It really was a pretty day. Anne couldn't resist scope for the imagination, so she was sure Anne really did want to go. Finally, Diana said, "I'll go if the other girls will, but only there and right back. Come on, Anne, you'll go won't you?"

Gilbert was surprised to see the utter devotion on Anne's face when she looked at her friend. He had been correct; this girl would be a very good friend to have. Her continued coldness made him think that his chance of being friends with her was already past and that she really was "mad for keeps". Apparently she could hate as passionately as she could love.

"For _you_ Diana, I will go along. Only because _you_ asked me to and I would do anything in the world for _you_," replied Anne. She stood up, with her back to Gilbert, and linked her arm through Diana's as the girls all headed to the fence.

The boys helped the girls over the fence. (Gilbert thought Ruby Shaw held onto his arm rather longer than necessary.) The trip to the spruce grove was a merry one, with the girls talking and giggling in a tight group while the boys chased each other around. They startled a covey of grouse and picked long pieces of grass to chew on. Traipsing over the sun drenched hill, they were soon among the towering spruce trees. The girls had settled down in the sun at the edge of the pasture, while the boys shimmied up the trees to obtain the little golden nuggets of sap. They brought the first batch back down to the girls, and Gilbert was dismayed to notice Anne was not among them. He had hoped to make a peace offering, but he soon forgot his worries in the golden afternoon, sitting in the branches of a spruce, cheerfully exchanging jokes with Fred.

Beguiled by the fine day, the scholars forgot the time entirely until Jimmy, from the highest vantage point, cried, "Master's coming!"

Pandemonium broke loose! Girls leapt to their feet and ran, holding tightly onto their hats, brightly colored dresses and beribboned hair flying, making them resemble butterflies fluttering across the field. The advantage of being on the ground gave them just enough head start that, breathless and sweaty though they were, the girls were in their seats before Mr. Phillips arrived. The boys were slower owing to the necessity of climbing down the trees, but faster once on the ground. Even sprinting, the distance of the grove to the school had them sweeping into the classroom as the school master was hanging up his hat.

Gilbert flopped into his seat, breathing hard, and turned around to grin at his friends sitting behind him. He was shocked to notice Anne just taking her seat, a wreath of water lilies slightly askew on her head. So that is where she had been! Gilbert grinned and thought perhaps this was no ordinary girl, but a sprite or dryad in disguise. His grin did not last long.

Mr. Phillips, glancing around at the breathless boys—and Anne—decided he didn't want to be bothered with punishing the whole dozen. Instead, catching sight of Anne's flowery wreath, he walked directly in front of her saying sarcastically, "Anne Shirley, since you seem to be so fond of the boys' company we shall indulge your taste for it this afternoon. Take those flowers out of your hair and sit with Gilbert Blythe."

Gilbert groaned internally and quickly picked up his slate. Of course, he was the only boy who did not have a desk mate. Of course, this would be the punishment Mr. Phillips would choose. Of course, it would have to be Anne Shirley! Somehow, Gilbert knew he would take the blame for it. Gilbert could hear his friends snickering, at both Anne's dismay and his discomfort. Diana, turning pale with pity, plucked the wreath from Anne's hair. Anne however, stared at the master as if turned to stone.

"Did you hear what I said, Anne?" queried Mr. Phillips sternly.

"Yes, sir," said Anne, in an almost puzzled tone of voice, "but I didn't suppose you really meant it."

Gilbert silently agreed. Girls just didn't sit with boys, they just didn't! Yet, a tiny piece of him couldn't help warm at the idea of the slender slip of a girl sitting next to him, just inches away. Surely he could find a way to make amends with a whole afternoon of her sitting that close. They could soundly abuse Mr. Phillips in little notes on their slates, and his sarcastic, callous methods.

"I assure you I did," replied Mr. Phillips in a tone that made Gilbert bristle indignantly on Anne's behalf. "Obey me at once."

Gilbert, riveted on the scene as was every other student, saw a look of defiance flash across her face and he was tempted to scoot further away in case she reached for her slate. It quickly died out, replaced with a combination of mortification and resignation that gave her complexion a decidedly splotchy effect that clashed terribly with her red braids. As she stepped across the aisle, sat down and promptly buried her face in her arms, Gilbert quickly began working his arithmetic while his mind frantically scrambled. Would he be risking another outburst of temper if he said anything? Gilbert decided he didn't dare do or say anything for the moment; the entire school was still riveted on Anne. His nerves tingled with awareness of the figure sitting next to his. He could tell she wasn't crying, but rather seemed to be bleeding from her spirit as she occasionally shifted, sighed, or shook her head slightly. There was no opportunity to observe her face, however, as she kept is resolutely hidden. After the other scholars had turned their attention elsewhere and Mr. Phillips was listening to another class, Gilbert slipped from the box of candies in his desk a small pink heart, with the gold motto on it, "You are sweet." This he felt was an appropriate peace offering. It would show how much he thought of her and help soothe over any pique left from yesterday's ruinous teasing. He slipped it under the curve of Anne's arm, and as she lifted her head he was hopeful that she was going to talk to him and finally accept his apology. A grin actually started to spread across his face and light up his hazel eyes, but the hope was quickly dash as she picked up the offending heart and dropped it on the ground, crushing it under her boot heel. If she had seen Gilbert in that moment, she would have noticed his face drop into a look of deep disappointment and anger. Gilbert turned back to his slate, forming the resolution that he had done everything he possibly could. If she chose to still dislike him that was _her_ problem, not _his_!

When the school was let out, Gilbert gathered his belongings and bolted for the door, never offering a single glance for Anne Shirley. He quickly made it to the bridge and leaned against the railing, watching the water ripple and a heron wade gracefully along the pond's edge in the tall grass. A breeze ruffled his hair off of his forehead and he breathed deeply the pond's smell of damp vegetation and mud that was somehow still pleasant. By the time his friends caught up to him, he had regained some of his equilibrium.

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_Note: Gilbert was being decidedly teenager-ish with me in this chapter. He simply would not behave any other way! I am still fond of the chapter though. I think he has a lot in store for him…._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Gossip and Truth

The next day the scholars were all buzzing with the news that Anne was refusing to come back to school. Poor Diana, as Anne's bosom friend, was not happy. She was asked again and again to repeat Anne's exact words, even her facial expressions. The children waited anxiously, expecting Anne to walk into the school house door at any minute. Mr. Phillips walked in, set his books on his desk, and hung up his hat. Glancing at his class, he was aware of Anne's absence, though ordinarily he would not have been. Mrs. Eben Wright, the lady he was boarding with, had told him of Anne's determination to not return to school. She had it directly from Mrs. Rachel Lynde, who had it from none other than Miss Marilla Cuthbert. Mrs. Wright had felt it her duty to inform him of the inappropriateness of making girls sit with boys as a punishment. Mr. Phillips had no doubt his uncle, a trustee, would want to speak to him this evening. Consequently, he was in a foul mood with every scholar except for his dear Prissy. He was rather relieved Anne was no longer in his class. He was uncomfortable around the child with her big dreamy eyes and odd speeches. She wasn't the sedate, prim model of girlhood he was used to. Minnie Andrews was a model example of how a little girl should act and speak, or rather not speak at all.

"Diana Barry, as your desk mate has chosen to abandon her formal education," Mr. Phillips said scathingly, "you will move to the seat with Gertie Pye."

He then solemnly lectured the rest of the class on guarding themselves from the pitfall of an unyielding temper. Diana blushed for her friend and decided she would not tell her about this distasteful speech. Charlie puffed up with indignation on Anne's behalf and shook his head with Moody. Even Josie Pye felt this was really too unfair. Gilbert Blythe felt his indifference to the sanctimonious Mr. Phillips turn to positive dislike.

When school let out, Gilbert saw Diana start dejectedly for home all alone. Only Anne lived in that same direction. Gilbert felt sorry for her. On a sudden impulse he told his friends, "I'll see you tomorrow." They glanced at him in surprise.

"Diana, Diana!" Gilbert called as he jogged to catch up with her. "Can I walk you home today?"

Gilbert could feel the eyes of every Avonlea scholar swivel on him instantly. He just hoped Fred understood. Otherwise, Jimmy would be the only friend he had left. Diana was so miserable she didn't even blush. She just gave him a weak smile and said, "Thank you Gilbert." He took her books and they set off down the lane toward Orchard Slope. They walked in companionable silence enjoying the sunshine and the birds flitting and twittering in the trees. Gilbert really wanted to know more about Anne. He was still a little angry at her for her refusal to listen to his apology and for crushing the candy heart, but he was also very curious about her.

As they were passing a small cut into a birch grove, Diana stopped suddenly. So suddenly that Gilbert walked several paces past her. He turned back and was startled to see tears in Diana's eyes. Oh no, no! Walk her home so she wouldn't feel lonely he could handle, but not tears!

"What's wrong Diana?" he asked softly, trying not to cause those tears to overflow her dark lashes.

"Anne and I always walk this way through the Birch Path. She let me name it Birch Path, even though I know she could come up with ever so many cleverer names. She is so smart and sweet Gilbert, really she is. Why you just wouldn't believe the tremejously exciting and pretty things she says. She has such an imagination Gilbert. I'm just a little country girl, I know that, and she is heaps smarter than me. She really loves me though, and I love her. We are best friends. _Real_ best friends, not like Emma White and Ruby Shaw who talk about each other behind the other's back. I know you haven't been able to tell Anne is so nice, what with her temper and all this week. I do think she is being awful mean to you and I told her so. She is such a good friend and a kind person. I just wanted you to know that," she finished softly.

Gilbert had known Diana his whole life, and it was unusual for her to make such a serious speech. Once again he was touched by the depth of the friendship between the two girls.

"I can tell she is a good friend to you, and that is enough recommendation for me," Gilbert assured her, still hoping to stem the tears threatening to flow. "Let's go by your Birch Path. You can tell me all about it."

As they walked along, Diana told him about Anne and how they named the path to school. She told him about Birch Path, Violet's Veil and Lover's Lane. All about Anne's stories, how she could imagine lovers walking hand in hand down the path from Green Gables, her romantic ideals of a dashing suitor (for Diana of course since Anne considered herself too homely for anyone but a foreign missionary). She told him about Willowmere and their play games, the fairy glass and Dryad's Bubble. She told him about the Lake of Shining Waters and the White Way of Delight, about Snow Queen and Bonnie. Diana's world had expanded so much under the influence of Anne's imagination. Dear, sweet Diana, loveable and practical, suddenly could see fairies and castles in the sky where none had existed before. Gilbert smiled and joked along with Diana, and by the time they had reached Orchard Slope his cheerful manner had worked its magic. Diana really felt it would all turn out fine, even if she did have to sit by Gertie Pye.

Gilbert, despite his cheerfulness, was less satisfied with the interview. It was a thoughtful young man that made his way home in the waning afternoon sunlight. Taking the same path through the girls' fairy land, he reflected on what he had learned. First, Anne really was quite different around Diana than she had ever been around him, and that bothered him. She was a good and loving person, what was it about him that so repelled her? Second, Anne was a completely unique spirit, a strange mixture of pride and humility, of intelligence and quick temper, and of loyalty and prejudices. She was a person whose likes and dislikes would be determined quickly and fixed. She would soar to great heights and sink to great depths, but would not consider life worth living without both. She would be sensitive to anything that did not live up to her high ideals. His teasing and pranks must seem low in her estimation. Diana on the other hand was good and kind, loyal through and through. Exactly the kind of person Anne would admire. Gilbert had learned much about Anne Shirley in that walk and suddenly he wanted to make amends not because it was the right thing to do or because his mother told him to. He didn't want Anne thinking so badly of him.

"There is something about her," Gilbert mused to a robin, "I think I might find, in Anne, someone who was great fun, but also who I could talk about books and ideas with."

The shadows on the path made him realize the time, and he began to hurry. His mother didn't know why he was late and might worry. He needn't have concerned himself if he had considered the speed of gossip in Avonlea. As Gilbert walked up to the kitchen door, he could hear the chatter of his Aunt Meredith and his mother over the tinkling of china.

"….little Emma White told me Gilbert walked Diana Barry home from school today. She is a pretty little thing and the Wrights are a nice, respectable family, quite respectable. They are too young though Maria, quite too young, to be walking about together."

Not given to eavesdropping, Gilbert walked in the door saying, "Hello Aunt Meredith." He kissed his flustered Aunt and mother on their cheeks. "I heard what you said and you shouldn't worry. I walked Diana home because she was sad and she is my friend. Mr. Phillips was awful mean to her and Anne Shirley, her best friend, refuses to come to school. _And_ she has to sit by a Pye now." Only a native of Avonlea would understand the full implications of that last statement.

His mother, relieved even if she hadn't really believed what Meredith was implying, said stoutly, "That was very gentlemanly of you Gil. I'm real proud of you for sticking by your friend that way."

Meredith smiled, "Of course Gilbert that was fine of you, very fine. I had the whole story from little Emma White, such a fuss Maria!" She was off again. Gilbert left the two ladies drinking their tea and gossiping happily as he went upstairs to change his shirt and put away his books.

After dinner that night, he stretched out in the floor where a lamp reflected into his school books with the intention of studying for the next day, but didn't make much progress. Books reminded him of school; school reminded him of Anne and the events of the week. He watched the flame in the lamp wave, making shadows on his book and around the room. There was a dreamy look on his face, but something new as well. Gilbert was still preoccupied by the events of the day, and felt a pervading sense of injustice in the school master's actions. Though Mr. Phillips was well within his rights to punish a pupil, Gilbert decided it was wrong of him to inflict such punishments on a dreamy nymph like Anne. Gilbert had a strong sense of justice, and the intelligence and determination to take action himself if others would not.

He was startled with his father said, "Gilbert, best be getting around for bed. You have school tomorrow. Assuming you still plan on going?"

Gilbert grinned a crooked, roguish smile at his father's teasing tone, "Yes, I want to be well rested for tomorrow. I wouldn't want to displease Mr. Phillips."

After he went started upstairs, John was pondering that last statement. What was that boy up to now? From behind his agricultural journal he noted, "Gilbert seems unusually quiet tonight Maria. In fact, he has been unusually quiet all week."

Maria carefully counted off the row of stitches in her lace before replying, "I'm not certain but I think this Anne Shirley business has him down in the mouth. Meredith says the scholars are split in who was in the wrong on the slate incident. Sloanes and Andrews take up for Anne, which is really surprising given his good friend Charlie Sloane, Pyes and Bells for Gilbert. As for that business yesterday, I don't think anyone disagrees it was wrong of Mr. Phillips to single out one person for punishment out of a dozen equally guilty ones, Gilbert included. It isn't respectable having girls sit with boys at the same desk. It was certainly never done in our school days. I saw Mrs. Lynde this morning and she said much the same thing. She said Mr. Phillips keeps disgraceful order in the school, spending all of his time and energy on the Queens scholars. Though from what I understand it isn't the Queens scholars so much as Prissy Andrews he spends his time on. Meredith assured me he was not spending the same amount of time with the other students taking their Queens entrance. Courting when he should be teaching, scandalous! I think the trustees will be having a word with Theodore Phillips about his methods, that's what." She emphasized her statement with a quick snip of her sheers, finishing off the line of lace she had been working on.

"I'm sure what you say has some truth in it wife, but I'm not sure I would describe Gilbert as being down, just quiet. I suspect he has something on his mind, and it might mean mischief. I'm wondering if I should talk to the boy before he gets in any more trouble at school. He is bright, and we would do well to think about the future for him if he wants more advanced learning. Perhaps he would want to take a few years at Queens. I wouldn't want any mischief to jeopardize his future."

Maria made a huffy, dismissive sound as she bustled about her basket. "For pity's sake John you worry too much. Queens is at least two or three years into the future."

"Gilbert is almost fourteen. Other scholars his age will sit the Queens exam in a year. Harmon Bell told me," answered John. "The boy is growing up Maria. He will leave sooner or later."

"I know that," she responded too quickly, "but I will enjoy the time I have now. 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' I will just go set my batter before bed."

Listening to the homey sounds of Maria working in the kitchen, John decided not to broach the subject of what was on Gilbert's mind, trusting the boy just needed some space.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Try, Try Again

The following weeks saw the true onset of fall. The foliage blazed forth in reds, oranges and yellows, as if reflecting back a summer worth of soaked up sunsets. The breeze became crisp and the children's breath came out in little puffs as they chatted on the walk to school. The people of Avonlea were all busily preparing for winter. Potato harvest had started in earnest, and the boys would catch rides on the potato carts rumbling back and forth along the lanes. The good housekeepers were busy canning, cooking and preserving for the winter months. All seemed to be serene, unless your name was Theodore Phillips, school master. The Avonlea school house had seen a surprising number of odd happenings and pranks, but he couldn't seem to catch anyone at wrongdoing.

Gilbert was passing out the front gate of Blythe Farm one fine Saturday afternoon in October on an errand for his father as a potato wagon lumbered near.

"Gil, hey Gilbert!" Gilbert saw this wagon belonged to Fred's father, and Fred himself was driving the team. Gilbert jogged to the side of the wagon and, with a quick leap, hopped up next to Fred.

"Where you headed?" asked Fred.

"Just up to Blaire's store. One of our harnesses broke and father needs some supplies to repair it," Gilbert replied. He reached in his pocket and pulled out two fresh apple turnovers wrapped in a handkerchief, handing one to Fred.

"Well, you might as well keep me company for a ways," Fred said as he crunched into the flaky crust of his turnover.

"When did your father let you start driving the wagon by yourself?" Gilbert asked, licking apple filling off of his fingers. Although Gilbert would be fourteen in a few weeks, John Blythe had not even considered letting Gilbert drive the team and wagon, though he would dearly love to.

"Today is the first time I get to drive alone. He has been letting me drive on the farm since turnip planting this summer," Fred stuck his chest out proudly. Gilbert knew Fred wanted nothing more in the world than to be a farmer, just as generations of Wright men had before him. Gilbert, also coming from generations of farming men, was less sure. He loved farming, but just didn't feel as set in his future as Fred and Jimmy seemed to be. Gilbert grinned, genuinely proud and happy for his friend, slapped him on the back, and congratulated him on the honor of getting to drive a team alone.

"Hey guess what I found?" There was a merry look on Fred's wide, good humored face that spoke of mischief.

Gilbert lit up in response, "What?"

"I found a pack rat nest in our hay loft. What do you say we give old Phillips a surprise Monday?"

"More like send all of the girls into hysterics! Do you remember Ruby the last time? Just imagine if it was a rat!" Gilbert returned with a crooked grin and faked a sqeal and a swoon. The boys laughed merrily at the memory. One day some weeks previous, Mr. Phillips had opened his desk drawer only to find a rather indignant grey mouse, which scampered out of the desk drawer and through the scholars, causing general hysteria until it was caught by Fred Wright. Ruby Gillis actually had to be carried out of the school house until she could be calmed down. When queried, Jimmy Glover merely suggested it might have wandered in from Mr. Bell's pasture field, seeking warmth. Another day, Mr. Phillips took his chair after lunch only to jump back up yelping; he had sat on a handful of small pine cones on the seat. His pointer was hidden, his chalk broken into unusually small pieces, and when he put his jacket on to head home he found his pockets full of syrup. What was worse, the students, though answering promptly when he whisked through lessons in high dungeon, seemed to have lost all respect for him. Those weeks were the worst of his teaching career. He tried to pinpoint the source of the problem, but could not. This was because it was not the work of a single vigilante, but a well-orchestrated campaign by some half dozen boys, whose valiant commander was Gilbert Blythe assisted by his faithful generals Fred Wright and Jimmy Glover.

At the memory of his successful persecution of the school master, Gilbert laughed until tears came to his eyes.

"Still, Oliver Sloane did take it a bit far," Fred said more seriously. Just the previous day, Oliver had turned in a poor geometry exercise and Mr. Phillips sarcastically asked him if he had listened to the lesson at all or was daydreaming as usual. To which Oliver replied, "The only people daydreaming in this school is you and Prissy Andrews." Oliver received a lashing for sassing the teacher.

"Yes," said Gilbert, "poor taste that. A joke is one thing, but there was no need to bring Prissy into it."

As they neared town, Gilbert stepped off of the wagon waving merrily to his friend and promised a berrying trip on Gilbert's birthday the next weekend.

Gilbert looked around him alertly. He might not ordinarily have volunteered to come into town, but he wasn't missing any opportunities to be in the local congregating places. Gilbert's mind was not only taken up by his mischief and studies. He was still determined to convince Anne Shirley to like him. He made a point of being exceptionally civil when they met, tipping his cap and offering a friendly greeting. He always told her and Miss Marilla Cuthbert "Good morning Miss Cuthert. Good morning Anne" on Sunday at church. Miss Cuthbert always answered amiably, but Anne said not a word. The look on Miss Cuthbert's face made him sure she was aware of Anne's opinion of him, but she didn't quite know what to do about it. Diana even offered her services as a neutral party in negotiating a truce, all to no avail. Anne treated him with an air of freezing scorn. This rankled Gilbert, and eventually he continued his civility out of pure stubbornness that could rival Anne's.

Soon the observant Gilbert began to notice that she was not, perhaps, as indifferent as she liked to pretend. She might sweep by him, her pert little nose with its sprinkling of freckles high in the air, but she seemed rather to expect him to say something just so she could disregard it. There was something in those expressive grey eyes that made him think she enjoyed the novelty of hating him. She wasn't being deceitful. She genuinely believed she disliked him passionately, but she seemed to revel in it, enjoying the process of scorning him entirely too much. He had decided to test his theory at the next opportunity.

Gilbert leaned against the front wall of Blaire's Store, whistling idly with his hands in his pockets, waiting for Mr. Blaire to finish helping a few ladies choosing dress goods. He preferred to stay outside until he could conduct his business. He liked watching people and Avonlea on a Saturday afternoon was second only to church on a Sunday morning for watching people. He waved to several classmates, and tipped his hat politely at several of his mother's lady friends. Then he spied Anne coming up the road, presumably to post a letter she held.

For the past several weeks in such a situation, Gilbert would have stepped away from the wall, tipped his cap politely and said "Good day Anne." To which she would flip her long red braids, stick out her chin and glide past without a further note of acknowledgement. Today however, he kept his stance and his whistle did not falter. He did not so much as make direct eye contact, though it would be impossible for him to miss her presence or vice versa. In his peripheral vision, he saw her spot him and stiffen, ready to rebuff his friendly greeting. As she passed by, she actually paused for a step, almost glancing over her shoulder curiously as him. Quickly she regained herself and passed on to the post office, but not before Gilbert had formed this conclusion. She might genuinely _believe_ she disliked him, hated him even, but it was more for the satisfaction of her own imagination than for any real reason. Perhaps in her mind, having a bitter, lifelong enemy was so much more interesting than just forgiving him immediately. He made up his mind. If Anne needed a foe, a foe he would be. He wouldn't be mean of course (he had already learned that lesson well). Her coldness would no longer bother him because there was a camaraderie even in their antagonism. Gilbert was stubborn, as stubborn as she was. He would find a way to make her forgive him! Gilbert thought he now knew her well enough to realize, someday, in a single act of goodness that reached her heart, he could go from a passionately hated foe to a beloved friend.

So he whistled even more cheerfully, and if truth be told, looked forward to the challenge ahead of him. After all, having earned a victory made the achievement all the sweeter.

_Note: Surprise! This chapter came together faster than normal, so you might actually get two this week. _


	8. Chapter 8

_This chapter contains Caroline Norton's "Bingen on the Rhine". Clearly I claim no ownership of this delightful poem. _

Chapter 8: Debate Club and Daydreams

Gilbert Blythe stood in front of the little mirror in his bedroom nervously trying to flatten his unruly hair. He finally gave up, sure it would be sticking up again by the time he took his cap off at the debate hall. He glanced out his window at the twilight February evening. Frost had made patterns on the glass that reminded him of his mother's fine lace, framing the bare trees that lifted graceful arms as if yearning for the spring sun once again. Lingering light glistened off of the ice on Barry's Pond, creating a mosaic of whites, greys and dark blues highlighted by small white patches of blown snow. He thought briefly of Anne's name for it; "Lake of Shining Waters" did not seem to fit right now and he entertained himself for a few minutes wondering what she might call it in winter. Anne would come up with something fanciful and romantic. Gilbert smiled at his own lack of creativity, his imagination just wasn't up to the task. He would probably call it "Jimmy's Sore Backside", recalling the previous Saturday when Jimmy lost his footing while the boys were cutting ice with their fathers to pack away for the summer months. No, Anne would not think much of Gilbert's name for the pond, but Gilbert thought a name that brought up good memories was much better than some romantic drivel, so for tonight the pond would be "Jimmy's Sore Backside."

Gilbert turned back to the mirror and tugged at his suit when he thought about Anne's presence at the concert tonight. Gilbert had recited at the Avonlea debate club concerts before and was generally in great demand, even as young as he was. Gilbert had poise and an air of confidence. His voice, having deepened in the last year, was rich with feeling as he recited. He could move an audience. Still, knowing Anne would be in the audience made him want to be better tonight, it made him want to be perfect. Anne always seemed to push him to do better and be better, without even meaning to. It was her pointed challenge in their school work that gave him the dogged determination to work harder on his studies than ever before. It appeared good humored on Gilbert's side, though the same could not be said of her; truthfully he stubbornly maintained his decision from the fall to show her that he was her equal on any terms. Her school work was excellent, so he determined his must be excellent too. Without this motivation he would not have promoted to the fifth reader before the end of last term.

As Gilbert recalled what a lively term it had been, his hazel eyes sparkled. First the slate incident—he now blushed to recall it—followed by her proud abandonment of school which left the scholars reeling and Mr. Phillips the subject of student's, well Gilbert's, wrath. Then Anne somehow contrived to set Diana Barry drunk, triggering such a division on the subject of current wine and temperance as Gilbert had ever seen in Avonlea. John Blythe took a glass of wine when the cough got bad, so Gilbert's parents only marveled at how two girls managed to mistake wine with raspberry cordial. Gilbert laughed out loud as he recalled the incident. Consequently Mrs. Barry, staunchly against all alcohol, banned Diana from playing with or speaking to Anne Shirley. Anne, being Anne, consequently returned to school simply to be near Diana. Gilbert's keen eye of observation noted how displeased Mr. Phillips was when he realized Anne was in no way repentant for her earlier actions and the school master really was very disagreeable with her. At times, the scathing remarks he made to Anne caused Gilbert to consider pulling some new, much worse pranks on Mr. Phillips, but always the thought of her disapproval stopped him. Still, she vied for top honors with Gilbert and acted such a model student. The school master could not quite forgive her but he also could not find fault in her behavior. Personally, Gilbert felt a variety of feelings when Anne returned to school that had resulted in his giving her the lush strawberry apple he had brought with his lunch, careful that she didn't observe who left it on her desk at the lunch hour. His heart leapt strangely when she picked it up, clearly overjoyed with his gift, only to plummet when the realization of the gift giver drew a look of deep distain to her face. Gilbert's disappointment was quickly followed by anger when she went so far as to wipe her hands like she might somehow be contaminated by his association and then jealousy when she graciously accepted Charlie's pencil.

Gilbert stubbornly left the apple on her desk as he left the school house, saying to himself, "I gave her that apple out of friendship, so it is hers to do with as she pleases. At least _I _wouldn't waste a perfectly nice strawberry apple out of stubbornness, _pure stubbornness._"

He stomped home in a foul mood and made several scathing remarks toward Charlie that left Fred and Jimmy baffled as to what had come over their friend. They could only conclude, in hushed whispers after Gilbert stepped up the lane to Blythe Farm, that it must have something to do with Anne Shirley. The next day Gilbert had apologized to Charlie, and from that point on had tried to be nothing more than courteous to Anne Shirley.

Only a few weeks later, she had been involved in another strange incident. This time, she had saved the life of Minnie Mae Barry from the croup. The doctor had been to see his father the next day, after checking up on Minnie Mae's recovery.

"I've never seen anything like that young lady," the doctor had said, shaking his head in wonder. "She comported herself better than many ladies twice, even three times her age. Her eyes as she told me all about the case were wonderful; well, that girl is something special, that's what." Gilbert had felt pride in Anne. Though they weren't friends, he wanted to be her friend if only she would let him. The doctor's praise had somehow validated to Gilbert that Anne Shirley's friendship was worth the effort.

"Gilbert! Gilbert Blythe you better hurry down here son or we will be late!" Maria's voice floated up the stairwell, drawing him from his reminiscence back to the chilly February evening. "Aren't you dressed yet? Your father will be around with the sleigh soon."

"Yes Mother," Gilbert responded, taking one last swipe at his hair and a tug at his collar before hastily retreating down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, Maria stood glowing in her new dress from the dress goods John got her for Christmas, trimmed in new lace. She wore her best Sunday hat and the shawl Gilbert got for her was wrapped around her plump shoulders. As soon as Gilbert's foot hit the bottom step his mother descended on him to fuss over his suit and tie. Gilbert sincerely hoped she didn't make such an embarrassing scene at the debate hall. If she pulled out her handkerchief to rub imaginary dirt from his face, so help him, he would flee to the barn with his father! Truthfully, Maria was hiding her strong emotions behind her nervous movements. Seeing her son come down the stairs, tall and handsome in his best dress suit, entirely too grown up, left her with an ache in heart heart. She simply had to do something or she would just sit down and cry, leaving her eyes all red and her complexion splotchy before Gilbert's big night.

On the sleigh ride to the debate hall, Gilbert recited his selection for the night one more time in his head. It was his first time reciting Bingen on the Rhine in public, but the poem spoke to him and he had wanted this selection to be special. He felt a kinship to the young soldier, and when he could almost see himself as the young man from Bingen on the Rhine.

The debate hall was a fairly shabby building, but in the fading evening light it was alive with the laughter and fellowship of the small community. The light streaming from the windows was broken by the shadows of friends, making their way in for the festivities. John dropped Gilbert and Maria at the door while he drove the horses on around to the stables. Once in the door, Maria walked over to join the other ladies at the refreshment table and Gilbert gladly set down the tray of cookies, beating a hasty retreat before she realized he was gone and fussed over him more. Mrs. Rachel was presiding over the table, as the head of the Ladies Aide, and Gilbert did not want to be subjected to her good advice. Gilbert considered her good advice akin to castor oil; it might do one good in small doses, but it certainly wasn't pleasant going down.

At the far side of the hall, Gilbert saw Fred and Jimmy leaning against a wall with some of the other boys. It seemed most of the Avonlea youth over 10 years old was present. Gilbert playfully jostled his friends around so he could squeeze between them for some prime wall space. Fred barely noticed as he stared at a group of young people on the other side of the room.

"Hey Fred, want to stop daydreaming and budge up?" Gilbert teased.

"What? Oh, hey Gil. I didn't see you there," Fred answered distractedly causing Gilbert to look more closely at the little group. Once an older boy shifted sideways, Gilbert saw it was Diana Barry, two people who could only be Diana's Newbridge cousins, and Anne Shirley.

"See something you like Fred?" Gilbert queried, at which Fred's face turned bright red with embarrassment.

"I'm just watching the crowd, you know."

"Sure you are," said Gilbert. "Well I can't deny you have a good view! What do you say Jimmy? Do you think Fred has the best view in the room?"

Jimmy, cracked a small smile but was not his usual jovial self. Gilbert had worried about his friend who had seemed out of sorts since Christmas. Still, Gilbert knew this was not the time or place to find out the problem. He promised himself, at the first opportunity, he would get Jimmy alone to determine what was behind his depression. He didn't have long to ponder, because at that moment Gilbert was sent to his seat in a row of chairs reserved for the speakers of the night. He was by far the youngest, and seeing Anne in the audience made his stomach tighten up with nerves. Soon the crowd was settled and the evening's entertainment began.

Gilbert listened politely to the others present their selections, but his mind was really on his own upcoming piece. He couldn't help thinking about all of the things that could go wrong. What if he forgot the words? No of course he wouldn't forget the words, he really enjoyed this poem. What if he really did have a smudge of dirt on his face? Maybe he should have let his mother check him out more thoroughly after all. He surreptitiously tried to rub his face just to make sure there were not smudges. Jimmy caught his eye, across the room and smirked. He had caught Gilbert's nervous gesture and would tease him mercilessly about it next Monday. Gilbert quickly dropped his hand and rubbed it together with his other hand, trying to calm his nerves. Oh no! What if his voice cracked!? He could imagine the sympathy in Diana and Fred's faces, the superiority on Mrs. Rachel Lynde's face, his mother's embarrassment for him, and Anne Shirley, Anne would smirk and point her proud little nose in the air. His palms started sweating and he seriously considered bolting from the room. Just then, his name was called. Taking a deep calming breath he stood up. Gilbert was a young man of action. Simply having the moment in front of him allowed him to move beyond the panic and walk with confidence to the platform. He scanned the crowd quickly, then allowed them to fade away as he began his selection. He took a deep breath, and could almost catch the scent of mud and blood, could almost hear the moans of the battlefield.

_A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, _

_There was a lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears; _

_But a comrade stood beside him, while his lifeblood ebbed away, _

_And bent with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. _

_The dying soldier faltered, and he took that comrade's hand, _

_And he said, "I nevermore shall see my own, my native land: _

_Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine, _

_For I was born at Bingen, - at Bingen on the Rhine. _

Gilbert lifted his head. He could understand that boy, his pride in his homeland, his pride for having served faithfully, his love for his comrades and family.

_"Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around,_

_To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground,_

_That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done,_

_Full many a corpse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun;_

_And, mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, -_

_The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars;_

_And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, -_

_And one had come from Bingen, - fair Bingen on the Rhine.  
_

Gilbert could feel the grip of his comrades hand, feel the tear edge up the corner of his eye as he pictured his mother's grief as he walked proudly away from home. He understood the wanderlust that would lead a young man from home. He felt it himself, and he was sure, should Canada face a great war, he would be among the first to sign up.

_"Tell my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age;_

_For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage._

_For my father was a soldier, and even as a child_

_My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;_

_And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,_

_I let them take whate'er they would, - but kept my father's sword;_

_And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine_

_On the cottage wall at Bingen, - calm Bingen on the Rhine.  
_

When he thought of his sister, he couldn't help but see Diana's face in his head. If his sister had lived, he thought she might have been a lot like Diana, loyal and kind. Somehow he pictured Fred as being the comrade to tell her of his death on the battlefield. At this point Gilbert was so immersed in his story as to not notice that he had moved several members of the audience to tears.

_"Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head,_

_When the troops come marching home again with glad and gallant tread,_

_But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,_

_For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die;_

_And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name_

_To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,_

_And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine)_

_For the honor of old Bingen, - dear Bingen on the Rhine.  
_

As he took a breath for the next line, he thought of a sweetheart. Before this face had been shadowy, though of late it took a slender form with sparkling grey-green eyes. Tonight, so deep in his selection, he noticed his dream sweetheart also had deep auburn hair, sweeping down across her shoulders, small curls teased across her face in the light breeze. He couldn't help but glance down at Anne Shirley, not really seeing her as she was (pointedly ignoring him in her painfully tight, plain dress) but rather as the sweetheart of his imagination looked. For the description reminded him so faithfully of the girl he thought she was with everyone but him. His voice took on additional depth and sadness.

_"There's another, - not a sister: in the happy days gone by_

_You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye;_

_Too innocent for coquetry, - too fond for idle scorning, -_

_O friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning!_

_Tell her the last night of my life (for, ere the moon be risen,_

_My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), -_

_I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine_

_On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, - fair Bingen on the Rhine._

_"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, - I heard, or seemed to hear,_

_The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear;_

_And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill,_

_The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still;_

_And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly talk,_

_Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk!_

_And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly, in mine, -_

_But we'll meet no more at Bingen, - loved Bingen on the Rhine."_

Gilbert slowed his voice, each line flush with sadness and tenderness. _  
_

"_His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, - his grasp was childish weak, -_

_His eyes put on a dying look, - he sighed, and ceased to speak;_

_His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, -_

_The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land is dead;_

_And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down_

_On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strown;_

_Yet calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine,_

_As it shone on distant Bingen, - fair Bingen on the Rhine._

Gilbert finished to absolute silence before the small room exploded in applause, sounding too loud for so small a crowd. Some even stood up, stomping their feet as well. Gilbert saw with amazement that his father was among those who stood, and his eyes were damp, glittering with emotion and pride in his son. He found his way back to his seat in a daze, and the rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Gilbert was enjoying himself so much, he quite forgot about the vision of the sweetheart in his head until later that night in his room. As he examined this much more detailed picture in his head, he was somewhat surprised by her resemblance to Anne Shirley. He felt something stir in his chest, something that he put uneasily aside. He was just so focused on trying to gain her forgiveness. That must be it. She was on his mind more than any other girl as a result. Having settled his mind, if not his heart, he drifted into a peaceful sleep. The silver moon shone down on a face boyish in sleep, but that wise moon knew that the thoughts and emotions of a man lurked just around the bend.


	9. Teaser Clip

**A/N PLEASE READ FIRST **

**Hello, I'm back and writing again! To make a long story short, I had a baby boy in March. However, I have written bits and pieces over the 9 months since my last post. As my way of saying 'thank you' to everyone who has encouraged me to complete this story, I'm offering you a teaser. You know you have always wondered how Gilbert felt after the bridge scene? Well, here is my take. (You don't get the whole bridge scene yet.) It is one of the most angst-y things you will ever get out of Gilbert and me. So be warned...**

**********************_(AOGG Chp 28: An Unfortunate Lily Maid) _

_"No," she said coldly, "I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe; and I don't want to be!"_

_"All right!" Gilbert sprang into his skiff with an angry color in his cheeks. "I'll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley. And I don't care either!"_

Gilbert rowed as hard as he could, putting the full strength of his arms and shoulders into the oars. Soon he was back at Mr. Jasper Bell's landing. He pulled the skiff to shore, securing it. Though he knew he should inform Mr. Bell of his safe return, he simply couldn't face anyone. His hope had turned to anger, anger such as he had never felt. It ran white hot through his trembling frame and out across his skin. He practically ran the rest of the way home and paused in the lane, unsure where to go next. He started toward the house, and stopped. He knew his mother would be concerned about him, and he knew he was not to be trusted with holding his tongue right now. Instead he strode to the barn, grabbing a hammer and a small bucket of nails. He needed something physical, something hard, to burn his angry energy out on. So he attacked the back pasture fence, which had several loose panels his father had mentioned needed to be fixed. As he slammed poles into place, he thought over every interaction between himself and Anne. Stubborn, pigheaded girl! There was nothing he could do, apparently, he thought bitterly. She was willfully blind to any good in him! He had saved her life, _saved her life,_ and that was not enough for her. Time and again he had offered the hand of friendship, only to have it slapped away in the harshest way imaginable. She shunned him like a leper, no, he thought, worse than a leper. She would probably take pity on a leper but she had none for him. He hammered nails into the boards savagely, and was soon sweating from his effort. He stripped his outer shirt off, tossing it over a bush, and continued to wrestle with the fence. Fixing a board fence was a two man job really, one man to hold the board at one end, while the other man nailed the opposite end in place. Gilbert braced the board with his broad shoulders as he slammed nail after nail into the fence, his anger in no way abated by the activity. His mind spun in tighter and tighter circles around one point, one image. Anne Shirley's face when she had rejected his offer of friendship on the bridge. After a full half mile of fence, Gilbert felt a rough, calloused hand on his shoulder. Abruptly he stopped hammering, frozen under that gentle touch.

"Gilbert?" his father queried softly.

Gilbert couldn't respond, he only made a sort of choking sound as he lifted the hammer up once again. The hand moved, but soon after Gilbert felt the weight of the board ease. John was holding the other end in place. They continued on, repairing loose boards, but with each moment his father stood silently by his side, Gilbert's anger slowly leaked away, leaving only the pain of rejection. As Gilbert reached down to pick up the now almost empty nail bucket, he found he simply couldn't. So he sat heavily on the ground next to the fence, leaning his head back against the post. John sat beside him, still saying nothing, letting him struggle with his own thoughts. Soon though, the words began to flow and Gilbert choked out the whole story, right up to the words of her refusal.

"She hates me," he concluded dully. "I don't understand it. I called her a hurtful name, yes, but it wasn't so bad to cause her to hate me like this. I don't think I want to understand it anymore. I don't want anything to do with her anymore." Gilbert couldn't help the pain and bitterness that crept into his voice at the last statement.

John glanced sideways at his son, a knowing look in his eyes. Well he remembered that feeling. He could almost hear the echo of his own words so long ago, 'I don't want anything to do with her anymore.' Though John had moved on, and truly loved Maria, he couldn't help but wonder sometimes what might have been had he been able to forgive the harsh words another woman spoke many years before. She would always be his great regret, his one what if. He didn't want Gilbert to always wonder what if, but he also didn't want his son to hurt the way he was so obviously hurting. Time and again Anne Shirley had rejected his son's offer of friendship, and John was beginning to wonder if the boy even knew why he kept going back, offering it yet again. John knew, but until Gilbert realized it, his father wouldn't hurry the process. Still, his son deserved honesty.

"Son, I can't say I understand it either," John began quietly, "but I think the more important question you need to ask yourself is why you care to understand her, and why she can hurt you so much."

John got slowly to his feet, using the fence as support.

"I'll tell your mother you are working on the fence and will be in later. Don't worry about the cows, I'll bring them up as I head in. Just come in when you are ready."

Gilbert nodded, suddenly exhausted by the emotion of the day. "Father, please don't tell Mother what happened today."

John smiled, sure he understood why Gilbert didn't want his mother to know. "Don't worry son, I will keep her from quizzing you about things."

With that, John walked away, whistling for the cows.

Gilbert leaned his head against the post yet again, and felt the stray breeze cool his sweat soaked hair. His muscled ached under his sweat soaked undershirt, and he could feel the blisters coming up under the calluses on his hands. He wondered about his father's question, why did he care? Gilbert wasn't sure of the answer, but he knew he couldn't take another rejection like the one today. Something inside of him would break under another rejection. Gilbert, banged his head back against the post in frustration and felt a sharp pain that only reminded him of the knot Anne had given him with that slate. He drew his knees up to his chest, cradled his head in his hands, and seriously considered whether he was too old to cry.


End file.
